


Indulgence

by DittyWrites



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Conversations, F/M, Mild threats of violence, One Night Stands, One Shot, Origin Story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-17
Updated: 2019-03-17
Packaged: 2019-11-22 21:51:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18142400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DittyWrites/pseuds/DittyWrites
Summary: “Don't come any closer!”She hissed the warning, brandishing the knife at him and the confident manner in which it cut through the air suggested that she at least knew how to use it somewhat competently.As he returned Yamato to its sheath, he found that he could not keep the smirk from his lips.“You have an odd manner of offering thanks.”





	Indulgence

**Author's Note:**

> This was thrown together very quickly because of time constraints but i hope y'all enjoy my take on Nero's conception. Feedback is appreciated and much loved xx

As he pushed through the darkness of the Fortuna streets Vergil could not dispel the unease which the city ignited within him. The whispers of a religious group who worshipped his late father, Sparda, was enough to draw both his attention and his presence to this secluded part of the world.

Calling themselves the 'Order', the allusions to his father were etched into much of the architecture the symbolism was distinctly demonic in origin.

His family, his wretched past.

Not something he enjoyed being confronted with in such a detached manner.

In the few days since his arrival he had accumulated enough information to make him suspicious that he would not find the answers here that he sought and his other senses were enough to confirm to him that none of the remnants of his fathers legacy resided in this secluded town. The hum of demon energy here was strong, but not the type he needed.

There were very few leads remaining to be explored and it was these leads which found him patrolling the streets well into the night, in a vain attempt to sense any weakness in the veil between the demon world and the human world. Several demons had already fallen to his blade in such a manner and, truth be told, he was growing bored with the lack of a true challenge.

A true challenge which would come to fruition after he had amassed enough power.

To that end, it was not the unexpected nature of the screaming which attracted his attention but the emotion held within it. Undeniably feminine, the cries which broke the silence of the night were not laced with the shrillness of terror but rather bolstered by a rage which sounded almost feral to his trained ear.

Curiosity peaked he followed the sound as he sought out its source.

Rounding a nearby street he was greeted with the unmistakable sight of two demons, lessor demons given the weakness of the power emanating from them, preparing to attack a young woman as she crossed beneath a stone bridge.

While he would have preferred to keep his presence within the city completely unknown to its inhabitants the humanity within him was hesitant to stand by and allow this defenceless creature to die to such weak opponents.

It was beneath him.

Feeling the comforting weight of Yamato across his hip, he unsheathed the blade with a familiar reverence and set it to work. Fighting a battle this easy brought him absolutely no pleasure at all and the blade glinted in the pale moonlight for a split moment before the pair of lessor demons found themselves banished back to hell. Dead before they could even fully register his presence.

Turning back to the woman he spared her a quick check to ensure that she was not damaged in any way. His sensitive nose did not detect any human blood in the air but he preferred to err on the side of caution.

Clothed in a white robe which indicated her connection to the Order, the woman's youthful face was framed by hair which resembled rope in both its colour and it the way which is was delicately braided across her scalp. She was also older then he had initially thought, her features placed her closer to his own age than anything and were rather soft and feminine.

Pretty.

What truly amused him, however, was the small dagger which was grasped within her palm, its sharpened blade facing him in a threatening manner, and the expression of rage and mistrust which had now shifted its focus from the demons to himself.

“Don't come any closer!”

She hissed the warning, brandishing the knife at him and the confident manner in which it cut through the air suggested that she at least knew how to use it somewhat competently.

As he returned Yamato to its sheath, he found that he could not keep the smirk from his lips.

“You have an odd manner of offering thanks.”

“You appear from nowhere,” the woman narrowed her eyes in accusation, “brandishing a sword, kill those two,” she paused, “demons without blinking and so damn quickly that I couldn't even see what happened-”

Pausing again to take a deep breath and gather herself, the woman relaxed her stance.

“Thank you.”

Nodding his acceptance of her words their shared attention was quickly grabbed by the noise of an approaching group, no doubt also drawn from their slumber by her earlier screams.

“Shit.” The woman cursed lowly as her eyes darted around in panic. “How am I going to explain this?”

“What is wrong?” Confused by her panic, he crossed his arms and awaited an answer.

“I'm out past curfew, again. Same as you. We've both had it if they find us.”

A chuckle, low in his throat, met her words. “Those men have no power over me. Let them try.” Turning on his heel, he was prepared to make a slow exit when a soft hand made itself known on his wrist.

Snatching his hand away instinctively, he frowned a touch to see the woman flinch as she realised she had overstepped.

“My home is right here,” she indicated to a nearby door, “and I don't think you want to be found like this as much as me. I don't know if you live nearby but you are welcome to hide in my home until it is safe.” She continued, voice taking on a pleading quality. “Consider it me returning a kindness.”

Generally such an offer would be met with immediate rejection but his work within this town had made him weary and the thought of a warm home was somewhat more appealing that the small camp he had set up in the outskirts of town.

He could accept a small indulgence.

With a swift nod he stood to the side and allowed her to lead the way on their short journey.

The shadows of the night kept them tactfully concealed and Vergil kept his eyes trained on the woman as she slipped her small dagger back within the folds of her robe and continued to lead him towards their goal.

Reaching her home the woman threw herself through her own front door and Vergil found that he had very little time to slip through himself before the door was slammed shut behind him.

Listening at the door for a moment, the woman waited for a tense moment until she was confident that the group were not approaching their position before visibly relaxing.

Behind her, Vergil stood awkwardly in the low room and he could feel the faint tickle of his spiked hair ghosting along the roof as he gave her a moment to gather her thoughts.

“Take a seat.”

Apparently a gracious host, the woman indicated the fabric chairs which sat against the nearby wall as she disappeared into an adjacent room.

“And would you like a drink?” Her head poked through the doorway, a polite yet teasing smile gracing her lips. “Something strong for my saviour?”

Saviour.

Now that was funny.

Everything about this situation was ridiculously unexpected but, rather than putting him on edge, Vergil was surprised to find that he was perfectly calm.

“Whatever suits.” He responded evenly.

“You got a name?” Her voice called from the kitchen.

“Not one that matters, given the circumstance.”

“Ooh, a man of mystery. That's fun. I suppose it doesn't matter because I have the feeling you'll be gone by morning.”

Glancing around the room to gain an awareness of his surroundings, the first thought that struck him was that there were very little personal touches in this home which he would struggle to describe as 'modest'.

No family photographs.

No signs of childish drawings or toys

She was not affluent nor did she appear to have any family.

Curious.

Unsure why he was so taken by this strange woman, he accepted the drink which she emerged from the kitchen to present him with.

“Attempt to steal anything and I'll slit your throat, handsome.” She muttered, settling into her own chair with practised ease as her white robe settled around her.

Ignoring the insult of such a potential accusation Vergil instead cocked a brow at her confidence in her own ability.

She had an undeniable fire. Ready and apparently willing to kill him, she had also allowed a strange man to enter her home with little consideration.

Brave yet foolish.

Maybe that was the appeal?

And she had called him-

“Handsome?”

Seeing his raised brow, she shrugged in response.

“You won't give me a name so I created my own. Blame that jawline and those pale eyes.”

“After watching me slay two demons with less effort then it would take you to cut the stem of a flower,” his voice perfectly calm, only tinted by his amusement and mild embarrassment at her brazen assessment of him, he questioned her, “do you think you would land a single blow on me if I wanted to steal from you?”

“I would certainly try.” She shot back, giving no quarter and raising her own drink. “I own very little and the little I do own I am very protective of.”

Vergil inclined his head to her to indicate his concession of her point. He understood that feeling, had experienced that same possessiveness with his few meagre belongings.

“You live alone?”

Mildly surprised that he has asked that aloud he quickly schooled his features into their usual stoic appearance as he took a slow drink to cover his embarrassment. The warmth of the liquid as it passed his lips was delightful and he savoured it for a long moment.

Maybe it had been too long since he had held the company of a woman.

Or maybe he was just tired.

“I have no family.” She gave a short laugh which did not seem to hold any real mirth. “In my line of work it would be,” she paused, “inappropriate.”

Their discussion was cut short by a sharp knock on the door.

Glancing at the time on her clock, the woman sighed as she cleared her throat.

“I am not open for business at the moment.” She spoke with a rasp, her tone imitating one of illness. “Try Sarrah in the next street over, her current companion was called for extra training so she should be free for the night.”

“That's a shame.” The voice which travelled through the door was masculine and laced with obvious intoxication. “Maybe next week, eh?” Tapping out a short tune on the wood, the heavy footsteps leading away from the door soon faded into nothing.

Darting a glance at the woman from his peripherals Vergil immediately took note of the redness which now decorated her face and they way she would not meet his eye.

Embarrassment.

Shame.

It was his suspicion that those emotions were not very often found on her, given her recurrent boldness, and he did not think it suited her.

He had met women like her before. In his time exploring the world, gaining power and watching men got to war over petty matters, he had seen the women who followed the soldiers. They slithered around the camps and barracks like serpents, always appearing and disappearing before the dawn broke. On the rare occasion that one had approached him he politely refused the advance, believing himself above such temptations, and withheld his disapproval of the way they sold themselves like cattle.

“I'm not a whore, if that's what you think.”

Taken aback by the bluntness of the statement and suspicious that something in his expression has given away his thoughts Vergil opened his mouth to respond to the woman as she now perched at the edge of her seat. However he thought better of it and closed it again, sealing his lips into a firm line.

“My type of work is protected by the Order,” the woman continued, “and we are only required to provide company to those who have been deemed 'in need of it'. There are a lack of women in this city and the younger men are discouraged from marriage before their training within the Order is complete. Needs must.”

Stopping for a moment she offered him a soft, sad smile which went unreturned.

“Nothing can happen without our consent and anyone who lays a hand us without permission gets punished by the Order. Well, if there's anything left of them when the rest of women get through with them.” She added with another smile, this one vicious in its origin. “We are loyal amongst ourselves.”

Accepting the information for what it was, Vergil simply nodded as he took another sip of his flask.

“It is none of my business.”

“Thank you.”

The beginnings of awkwardness began to settle into the silence before the woman shook her head of unwanted thoughts and levelled her gaze at him once again.

“So what brings you to Fortuna?”

“Business.”

Narrowing her eyes in a playful manner, the woman gave a 'tut' of disappointment.

“You really are mysterious, aren't you?” She muttered. “Well, I don't mind telling you a bit about the city if this is your first time here.”

“What do you know about the Order?” If his night of work was to be wasted then he may as well gain some new insight while it was so freely offered.

“The Order? Well-”

As the minutes ticked by into a hour and then another, Vergil found his drink replaced numerous times and he could feel the slight buzz of intoxication on the fringes of his senses. The woman had done most of the talking with him offered an opinion or wry comment where appropriate as she gave him a quick history of this city. She had been helpful in many ways and her hospitality was appreciated.

As was her flirting.

He had contented with enough women vieing for his attention over the years to recognise the signs of her attraction to him and the ways, both consciously and unconsciously, she was attempting to attract him back.

She was pretty. Her attitude and speech fluctuated between kindness and bravado, with humour underlying the few jibes she fired his way. She had also loosened her hair during their talk and it now sat in brown waves which cascaded down her chest and held a tempting softness which his eyes had drifted to more than once.

“It's late.”

“Hrm?” Having lost track of the conversation, Vergil tapped his finger on the side of his chair.

“I should go to bed. You are welcome to use any of the chairs to make yourself comfortable.”

Rising from her chair with an expression of polite regret, she indicated the chairs which were littered around the room as she walked toward the door which led to her own room.

“Thank you.” He offered and his words were sincere, if quiet. “I will be gone before you awake.”

“That's true.” A strange expression crossed her features, almost as though she were debating something with herself, before it passed and confidence settled in its place. “Then maybe there is also a second option if the chairs don't suit your needs?”

Stepping into the doorway of her bedroom the woman brought her hands up and loosened her white robe at the front before allowing it to drop to the floor, exposing the back of her naked form with little shame.

“You may choose to join me if you wish, handsome.”

Her head tilting back over her shoulder, she held his gaze once again as she made the offer. The words came in a lowered tone which left little doubt as to her meaning and much emphasis on her desire.

“And take your boots off.”

Without sparing him another look, she disappeared into the room, her offer left standing.

In mild shock at her utter brazenness, he could feel the warmth of the blush which was creeping up his face, as he stared at the space she had just vacated. Her outline burned into his mind, he could not deny the heat of arousal which she sparked within him and he cursed his numerous drinks for not helping the situation.

He would be gone within the day, his business in this unsettling city concluded and his curiosity satisfied.

It had been too long since he had enjoyed the company of a woman.

Women who could snatch his attention were few and far between.

It would be foolish to deny himself.

Stretching out his upper body he bent over and began to remove his dark boots to respect the wishes of the bold and foolhardy woman.

He would allow himself this one small indulgence, freely offered as a reward for his time and actions, before he moved on with his plans.

After all, what consequence could one night of indiscretion bring?

 

**Author's Note:**

> Spoiler alert: He rawed her and nine months later BAM! surprise child by the name of Nero!! 
> 
> I think the mother died very quickly into young Nero's life from a disease which swept through Fortuna and killed quite a few people.


End file.
